


Not as a fugitive, blindly or bitterly

by phoenix_ascended



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, M/M, Wingfic, magical lube, that moment at the end of season 5 when Sam says yes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25376695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix_ascended/pseuds/phoenix_ascended
Summary: Sam steps into the apartment, blood thrumming through his veins. He’s been anticipating this moment all day, talking himself into it, building himself up to it. Hewants… fuck, he can’t even quite admit to himself what it is he wants.“Stomping through my front door…” drawls Lucifer. “Tad suicidal, don’t you think?” Sam meets his gaze — he’s right, he’s right. They’ve been dancing around whatever this is for months. But this — man, this —angelof a man, fallen though he may be is just — magnetic, and Sam can’t help himself.
Relationships: Lucifer/Sam Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 72





	Not as a fugitive, blindly or bitterly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bendingsignpost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bendingsignpost/gifts).



> My city's in lockdown again and I haven't been doing too well, so I started re-reading my favourite old fics and then watching Supernatural... and I must be wired a bit weird, because [that moment in Season 5 when Sam says yes to Lucifer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f8M1QdEF7SY)? It just _did_ things to me. And then I wrote this. It's my first non-Rocketman fic so I hope it's okay.
> 
> Thank you so much to [Hanitrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaniTrash/pseuds/HaniTrash) for a quick beta read — it's so weird that we met through Stucky fic but the first thing I'm publishing after we started talking is actually Samifer... Any errors remaining are obviously mine.
> 
> And thank you always and forever to [bendingsignpost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bendingsignpost/pseuds/bendingsignpost) for your incredible fic over the years, which has sustained me through many a dark night. Seriously, read his stuff. You won't be sorry.

Sam steps into the apartment, blood thrumming through his veins. He’s been anticipating this moment all day, talking himself into it, building himself up to it. He _wants…_ fuck, he can’t even quite admit to himself what it is he wants.

“Stomping through my front door…” drawls Lucifer. “Tad suicidal, don’t you think?” Sam meets his gaze — he’s right, he’s right. They’ve been dancing around whatever _this_ is for months. But this — man, this — _angel_ of a man, fallen though he may be is just — magnetic, and Sam can’t help himself.

“Why are you here, Sam?” Lucifer looks him up and down, like he always does, like he has been since they met. Like he’s devouring Sam with his eyes.

“I wanna say yes.” His voice is — steady. His pulse not so much.

“Excuse me?” says Lucifer.

Sam closes his eyes, tips his head back slightly, let’s the power pulse through him. He knows Lucifer can feel it, knows they’re tied to each other whether he likes it or not.

“Chock full of Ovaltine, are we?” murmurs Lucifer, appreciatively, stepping closer.

“You heard me,” says Sam, desperately trying not to sway towards the other man, a lilt in his voice barely concealing his fear. “Yes.”

“You’re serious.”

“Deal of the century,” says Sam. “I give you a free ride, and when it’s all over, I live, my brother lives.”

“I’m not sure I want you if it’s just part of a _deal_ ,” Lucifer says, dismissively. He steps into Sam’s space, runs a cool finger up Sam’s chest, his neck, his cheek. “I want you to _want_ me, Sam. Or at least to acknowledge that it’s what you want. But I like the idea. Just you and me. One round. No tricks. You were made for me, Sam. You know it and I know it. What do you say, Sam?”

They’re standing so close. Sam can feel Lucifer’s breath on his skin, can smell — salts, petrichor, the faintest tang of sulfur. Sam takes a deep breath, lifts his chin, defiant. “Yes,” he says, and it’s husky with desire he can’t help.

Lucifer spreads his arms wide and for a moment, Sam can see enormous black wings in the bright light. He blinks and he’s naked, the room warmer. His hard cock is exposed now, no hiding his reactions. The smile on Lucifer’s face is predatory as he runs the edge of a nail ever so gently up the rigid shaft.

“You won’t regret this,” he purrs, both hands now splayed across the breadth of Sam’s chest. Then they’re kissing, the cool line of Lucifer’s body against his, his cock pressed into the planes of his abdomen, their bodies heating together. He swallows a moan, slides his tongue into Lucifer’s mouth, arches his neck back as a hand finds the curve of his rear, and then Lucifer’s devilish teeth are fastened into his neck, biting and then sucking a bruise on top of it, and Sam is utterly lost.

“Oh, God,” Sam moans.

“Definitely, definitely not,” smirks Lucifer. “And I’ll thank you not to mention my Father while we’re fucking…”

Sam almost laughs, but the flash of fire in Lucifer’s eyes stops him. Lucifer crowds him back, walks him to the wall, cages him with his forearms. “You may call me Lord of Darkness,” he says. “You may call me Morningstar. You may call out Lightbringer, when my seed enters you and we join forever. Say it to me again, I want to hear it.”

“Yes,” whispers Sam, breathless.

“Louder.”

“Yes,” Sam says, louder. “Yes, Lord of Darkness.” And his cock pulses between his legs, fire coursing through his centre. Lucifer falls upon him again, fingers twisted into Sam’s hair, hot lips and sharp teeth sucking marks all over his chest, his neck. Sam squirms in Lucifer’s grip, all 6’4” of him, helpless against the angel’s unholy strength, and if that’s not the hottest thing he’s experienced ever… _fuck_.

When Lucifer draws back to look at him after what feels like an eternity, it’s like his eyes are entirely black with desire. 

“Bed,” he growls, and suddenly Lucifer’s clothes are also gone. Sam can’t help glancing down — he’s not sure what he expected — hooves and hairy legs and a bifurcated cock out of an etching in the Malleus Maleficarum, his brain helpfully supplies — but instead it’s just a generous dick, thick and long and — intact, foreskin retracted slightly already, ruby glans exposed, glistening. Suddenly, Sam wants that in his mouth, wants to feel his lips stretched around it, wants to taste.

He reaches for it, and then they’re lying down, on a huge bed, blood-red sheets and piled with silk cushions patterned with gold thread.

Lucifer ruts lazily against Sam’s thigh as his fingers explore biceps, deltoids. 

“Please,” murmurs Sam.

“What do you want, Sam?”

“I want —” He stumbles. “I want you in my mouth.”

“You want me in you?”

“Yes.” His voice sounds broken, even to his own ears.

“I could listen to you saying ‘yes’ to me for eternity, Sam. It’s the most beautiful thing. Exquisite.”

Sam’s eyes flutter shut, and he arches his back as Lucifer’s fingers stroke down the centre of him, down his sternum, to his navel, down the trail of hair leading to his groin. The fingers move away before they touch where he most wants them and he cries out in frustration.

“You may worship me with your mouth, Sam,” says Lucifer, laconic and calm, like it’s his due.

The rush of gratitude in Sam is mortifying. A tiny part of his brain is still trying to keep track of the plan, but the rest of him is so high — on the blood, on lust, on the power he has over an angel — he can’t think straight.

He scrambles to his knees between Lucifer’s legs, leans down, his mouth open, watering, wet.

He licks, and suckles, and mouths along the shaft. He takes Lucifer’s flesh into his body, sliding down onto it, letting it bump against his soft palate, savouring the sharp flavour of it and losing himself in the rhythm of it.

His body is not his own. He is merely an instrument at Lucifer’s disposal. Somewhere in his mind, the truth of it settles — he was made for this. No, not just that. He was made _for_ Lucifer. He swallows around the unforgiving phallus in his throat, swallows a sob at the same time. Lucifer’s fingers brush away the tears forming in his eyes, and he feels himself pulled up with strong arms, into an embrace.

“Oh, my vessel,” Lucifer murmurs into his hair. “You’re coming to terms with it now, aren’t you?”

He strokes his hair, kisses his temple. “I told you that this was inevitable. I told you that you were made for me. _Mine_. But only willingly.” Sam can feel the gentlest flutter of feathers around his shoulders. He feels small, safe. “So, I’ll ask you again, now that you know more what it is that you’re offering. Will you give yourself to me, utterly?”

He feels fingers beneath his chin, raising his head to meet soft eyes, kind eyes. He feels a tear drip down his cheek, and he swipes it away.

“Yes, Morningstar,” he says, quietly, and somehow he means it even more than he did before. “Take me. Possess me. I’m yours.” Lucifer glows.

“On your back,” the angel says.

Sam lies back, spreads his legs. His cock is stiff against his belly, and he has no time to feel exposed before Lucifer is leaning down between his thighs, pushing his legs up and back, strong arms holding his own arms beside his head, and huge black wings covering them both. Lucifer clicks his fingers and Sam feels — dampness, warmth, a sense of stretching, open and inviting in his innermost self. 

He feels the blunt head of the angel’s rod nudge at his entrance, and he can’t remember ever wanting anything this much.

“Will you take me inside your body?” asks Lucifer.

Sam arches up, his hips seeking that flesh. “Yes!” he says, more certain of this than anything in his life. He aches for it, throbbing with need. 

“Will you let me fill you?” asks Lucifer.

“Yes!” Sam cries, as Lucifer’s firm cock breaches him, enters him completely, fucks into him, over and over and over. He is so full, so blissfully full, the drag of Lucifer’s shaft over his most intimate spot almost constant. He throws his head back, moans with the sensations overwhelming him. 

“Will you be my vessel, Sam Winchester?” asks Lucifer.

“Yes! Yes, Lightbringer!” shouts Sam, as he takes Lucifer into him, wholly and completely, flesh, blood, thought, seed — and glowing white light fills the room, his entire self suffused with intense pleasure, pulsing, coming, every muscle in him contracted and then released, floating, utterly content, knowing he was made for this, and he is — finally — where he belongs.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this is from Kenneth Slessor's poem "Sleep". Some of you may remember that one of its lines is, "Do you give yourself to me utterly?" It felt appropriate. 
> 
> Come chat to me over on tumblr! I'm [mordwen](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mordwen) there.
> 
> Oh, and I guess if you're looking for other things I've written, they're under my [phoenix_rose pseud](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mordwen/pseuds/phoenix_rose)...


End file.
